


Shut Down

by bientist



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gen, actually not explicitly romantic, cw: anxiety attack, it's not actually new but i'm just gonna post a bunch of old shit here i guess, this is a piece i wrote in april 2015, tw: anxiety, up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bientist/pseuds/bientist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan breaks. Phil helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Down

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to deal with my own anxiety and so I wrote a cathartic piece. This is one representation of how anxiety can be dealt with, but by no means the only method.

While cause usually begets effect, sometimes effect is brought about for no reason at all.

Dan usually only breaks when there’s a specific catalyst— something emotionally inducing that provokes his thoughts and can send his brain spiraling into a swirling void of endless tangents. Usually, it’s a singular event, like a fictional character he loves dying, or something truly hurtful that some troll said in a comment that really shouldn’t get to him but still does anyway. And sometimes, Dan just shatters, for no specific reason at all. It’s just that the air he breathes is suddenly poisonous and his mind expands with toxicity to the point of explosion, splattering scattered thoughts on the cavernous walls of his skull. Dan breaks tonight, and it’s all-consuming and sudden, and he feels his knees buckle as he lands hard on the wooden floor.

His rational brain tries to keep calm. This has happened before, many times, and Dan’s gotten much better at this, controlling the chaos. He’s gotten much better at breathing rhythmically so as not to hyperventilate, he’s stopped reflexively clenching his fists and instead violently flicks his fingers outward, splaying them forcefully to expel the energy making his hands tremble. He curls, placing his head between his knees, and presses his knees to his temples, expecting the pressure to cause some relief, as it usually does.

It doesn’t.

None of it is working.

Dan tries harder, trying to count to eight seconds as he inhales, hold it for nine, and exhale for ten. He tries to remind himself that this is just an anxiety attack, not the literal end of the world. And it’s like a shout into a riptide, or rather, a roaring whirlpool, for all the good it does. The other voices in Dan’s head –the irrational ones, the screaming ones— take over despite his best efforts.

And he chokes on his own breath, and succumbs, finally hyperventilating with harsh spasms on the ground.

He slams his eyes shut just as he hears the rapid pounding of fast-approaching footsteps, and the door banging open.

“Dan,” he hears, distantly. The tone is soothing, deliberately calm. “Dan, you’re having an anxiety attack. It’s okay. You’re okay. Come on, breathe with me. In for eight, hold for nine, out for ten. Let’s do it together.”

Phil’s baritone is calming, overpowering the utter chaos going on in Dan’s body. He jolts with another spasm, but nods, and shakily breathes in with Phil.

Several minutes pass. Phil doesn’t stop counting, doesn’t lose the soothing timbre of his tone, and he’s like the anchor grounding Dan to reality. Dan feels like he was spit out of the whirlpool, and roughly washed up to shore. It’s becoming easier to breathe now, and Dan feels like he’s finally breathing clear air. His breaths don’t choke him anymore, they fill his lungs with oxygen, and Dan just feels, finally out of his head. He feels the coldness of the wooden floor, and the fabric of his shirt against his chest, and the warmth of Phil’s hand on his—when Phil took his hand, Dan doesn’t remember.

He doesn’t care.

Dan takes one final deep breath in, and after exhaling, lets his eyes open slowly. Phil is crouched over Dan, not close enough to be suffocating him but definitely still close, and his blue eyes are storming. His gaze doesn’t once leave Dan’s, and his hair is messed up from sleep. Dan definitely woke him up with the thud on the ground, then.

“Shit, Dan. Are you okay?” Phil finally speaks.

“Yeah,” Dan replies, voice rough.

“Do you want anything?”

“Er, water.”

“I’ll make you some Ramen too. Or some biscuits? Which do you want? Or maybe tea is better. I know this isn’t the first time this has happened, Dan, I wish I could help more–”

“Phil,” Dan interrupts, smiling. “Thank you.”

He gives an oh of surprise then, because Phil’s sudden hug is damn near crushing in its intensity. Dan feels any remaining negativity be switched off, because Phil’s hands are pressing hard on his back, direct pressure relieving the remnants of tension inside Dan’s body. He sighs and immediately relaxes, letting himself be held, holding Phil right back. He feels Phil’s chin tuck into the space between his chin and shoulder, tickling his neck. The warmth is overwhelming, but in a good way— Dan feels cared for, important, loved.

He feels Phil press a kiss to his shoulder, and lets his mind finally come to peace.


End file.
